


Paralyzed

by Kitax13



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humor, Huntsman - Freeform, Romance, Snow White - Freeform, Tragic Romance, the huntsman - Freeform, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitax13/pseuds/Kitax13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is sleep. Sleep is understanding. Understanding is love. What if you were paralyzed; not being able to move but able to hear and feel and understand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm a new author here so please take it easy on me :) I've posted before on fanfiction.net so I thought maybe I could share my stuff here. Every chapter of this story is at least 1000 words. Enjoy!

The apple twisted around as it fell to the forest floor and now it took the shape of the Devil’s fruit. It’s skin covered in what she told herself must have been mold but looked strangely like dog’s fur. The seemingly crunchy meat was now browning and sagging. It made a disgusting sort of thud as it hit the ground and sort of melted into the snow beneath her feet. Like the sensation one gets when drinking hot tea, when the warmness floods through the body—her body froze and tingled, spreading into her stomach, her lungs, her fingers. She felt her knees hit the ground as she looked up to William. For a long needed moment, he saw the William that she knew from before. He jested with her and teased her with an apple like in her memory. Now when she looked up at him he couldn’t be farther away from what she remembered. He smiled at her as she stumbled backwards and down to her knees. She saw that he wasn’t himself. His face had turned fairer and his stubble receding. He wasn’t William anymore. The creature before her spoke and she realized whom she knelt before. Ravenna’s face molded it’s self out of her companions features and Snow felt her heart slow. Her fingers stiffened as cold overtook her. She had been expecting this; waiting,,, wanting? Yes. She wanted this to be over with. She wanted for no more people to die in her stead.

 There was yelling in the distance, but she couldn’t turn her head. She couldn’t move at all. She would cry if she could for out of all of the tones she heard, she could pick out his voice above the rest. He was coming straight towards the danger and she couldn’t scream or warn him. Her concern was for the dwarves and William as well but something in her wanted to scream for no her childhood friend and love, but for the Huntsman who had saved her life so many times in the past few terrifying days.

 Boney fingers wrapped around her neck and she could only stare into the eyes of the witch who would kill her. Blue like steel that could have been black but still not as cruel as these. The voices ventured closer as the raven hearted Queen smiled deeply into Snow’s soul. A knife shined in her peripheral vision as the Queen lifted it to be brought down into her heart.

 “Princess!” screamed the voices and Ravenna’s eyes glowed with hatred and anticipation. It was now. There was no doubt that the Queen wanted to play with Snow; give her a small amount of hope from hearing her company call her name. The hope of living just a little longer.

 “NO!” yelled the Huntsman, swinging his axe across the Queen’s body. With a twirl of her feathered cape she became herself a small flock of ravens and flew off out of the Huntsman’s reach. “Princess,” he called; the endearment in the word that she had thought existed was now replaced with shaking and fear. She didn’t think it possible, to hear him speak like that. Apparently it took her being on her death bed. She would have laughed probably. William came into view as she heard the Huntsman pleading heatedly with the dwarves. If hey had healed her before then maybe- but there was no more for her, she knew.

 _This is death._ She told herself as her eyes slowly closed. The last thing her pupils focused on was the scene infront of her. None of the dwarves were in view. Infront of her was William, though he was blurry. She focused behind him on the tall figure of the Huntsman with his hands on his head. He stood turned away from her; his axe in his hand.

 “No, this cannot be.” Spoke Muir, the wisest of the dwarves, who could see with his heart not his eyes. Everything was dark and cold but above she heard William whispering to her.

 “Please,” he held her head up off the ground. She could feel his long delicate fingers at the nape of her neck, colder still than her own flesh. She felt the warm touch of something to her lips and she thought she felt her heart beat. But it was still. If love’s true kiss couldn’t start its beating then she wouldn’t even hear their voices for long. Maybe that’s what death was, hearing the people you love say there farewells before finally being buried and never knowing a human voice again.

 If that was true, she only wished that she had said something more lasting at her father’s funeral.

 “What shall we do now?” asked Gort. She heard William stand—the crunch of snow under his boots was evidence of that. Another approached her and she could hear the person’s slightly ragged breathing. She felt herself being lifted out of the snow and gathered up into a pair of well muscled arms. Warm hands held her close. That and the calluses on those warm hands gave it away. The Huntsman held her close and leaned his head on hers. Something dripped onto her face. Was it melting snow? If so, then why were the drips so warm? Beith spoke up finally in reply to Gorts question.

 “What we promised.” He said slowly. She felt the Huntsman’s breath, hot on her skin and thought that for that moment she could have shivered. She never realized before but crying is not just a physical thing; for in that moment she was crying. She did this not for herself but for the people she was leaving behind and all the things that she just realized that she would never be able to say or tell. The Huntsman’s warm calloused hands gripped her as if to say its ok. Even now when it was too late for her, he had to be thinking of her. How he must be hurting himself now.  Beith continued slowly but deliberately. “We vowed to follow her in life and in death. We will do what she would have wanted.


	2. Sleep

There journey was silent past the sounds of nature. It’s amazing, the things you hear when hearing is all you can do. When you can not see, nor smell, nor taste even the spit in your own mouth. When they laid her down on a clothe surface and lifted her into the air she heard the crumble of the snow below her and then the cloth being pulled tight. The chirping of birds was louder still than she had ever heard it and the twitter of squirrels as well. Every now and then on their passage one of the dwarves would grunt or start to cough, she suspected out of annoyance at the silence,  but that would die out in just seconds. She realized that she didn’t sleep, while she was dead, if that’s what she really was.  Out of all the emotions she felt in her sleeping, annoyed was the most prominent. She had spent a prominent amount of her life locked up in a cell with nothing but prayer and straw dolls to keep her company. Now here she was, just recently escaped from the only life she knew and locked back up in another unbreakable, unbearable prison. But she dared not hope for release from this prison. Every day in her old life did she prayed for deliverance thinking death would have been better. But death favors no man. She knew that. Sometimes during those sleepless periods, when the world was utterly quiet and the forest itself had gone to sleep, she would hear it. The squirrels had quieted and the birds burrowed in their nest for the night. She heard Snow; her name being muttered under a man’s breath. The fire crackled and she felt a sheet of thin cotton over her head, but she heard it clearly. _Snow._ The voice called. _I’m sorry. Snow_. Maybe she really was connected to the afterworld and she heard her father’s shadow calling to her, for she did not recognize the voice to be neither of the men near her, nor the dwarves. The words were without inflection or accent and were so soft that she was afraid the world around her would break from her hearing them.

 It had been two full days and one silent night before finally someone said a word. “there,” came William’s voice which she heard from infront of her. He had been leading the group to the keep aparantly. She hadn’t known until then  because of the silence. Voices from all around her rang out: Sighs and grunts and a few surprised vowels. The Huntsman’s voice came quietly from behind her, him being the closest to her head. She wondered if no one else could hear him aswell.

“Finally.” The group traveled on and they reached the castle gates. Oh, how she wanted to see the people. To tell them that they will prevail against the Queen and that they didn’t need her to do it. A man’s voice yelled from a ways away to open the gates and after a long pause the loud creaking and pulling of heavy chain filled Snow’s ears. The movement continued and she was brought into keep. She heard William order for her to be take and prepared for service. Women voices surrounded her and she was carried off and dressed in clean clothes; her hair washed. She was laid on a  hard table covered in what felt like fur. The room was cold even to her cold form.  She waited. There was silence again, though deeper and not filled with the sounds of nature that she so loved. After years of being indoors in the dark, she wondered if she got the chance, she would have them bury her above ground in a garden where she could always have someone to keep her company. Maybe she could see the sun once more before her ears were filled with dirt.

Soon doors were opened and people entered. A large amount of footsteps surrounded her and she listened.  There were no words spoken over her officially. That would be saved for the actual ceremony. Instead she heard crying. Women mostly, though she knew no women closely enough for them to cry for her. It was simply because she was their princess that they wept. She wondered how they could do it—morn her death. She had returned to them, though mute and paralyzed. She was of no help to them now and even then they talked of her goodness. How she had lost her life trying to help them; how her father had done the same.

 William and his father came in and were accompanied by a few guards. She heard them enter along with metal scraping across the ground. He spoke about their life as children and the night her father died, how he was forced to leave her and told that she was dead. He begged her forgiveness for leaving her in captivity all those years. He begged her to live. He cried as everyone else did, but she did feel how she had known him. Even if she had only two conversations with him since seeing him again, she loved him like she would her own blood. He was her brother and she knew there was nothing more that she could do for him. His tears became hers as she found herself wanting to cry and only finding herself filled with tears, the water unable to escape her closed eyes.

They soon left her as well and she found herself wondering where he was. The man who was her savior and could make her shiver with a touch. She remembered hearing his reaction and his words. _How he must hate himself._ She told herself. She knew his habits and vices and most of all his pain. He had lost his wife and now, even though she knew that she was no were near as important, he had lost her. _How horrible he must feel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd love to hear about how much I messed up!


	3. Understood

The doors opened and someone approached her bed with heavy staggering steps, but it was more long silence before she knew who it was that stood before her. Out of everyone who came to see her in her death, this was the visit she wanted. She had cried with the others, but not like this. A hand came up and touched the fur she lay on.

“So here you are,” came his voice; the Huntsman’s deep tones. “All dressed up like you’re about to wake and give me more grief, am I right?” She heard a slight laugh that couldn’t have been more pitiful. There was another pause and something heavy and hit the floor.

“I once had a wife, princess. Sara was her name,” Snow listened intently. She had heard of her before, the wife that had saved him but he had failed to save. “I think I’ve told you. Well, when I came back from the war I carried with me the stench of death and the anger of what I had lost.” He paused again and he breathed deeply. “I wasn’t worth saving, that’s for sure, but she did it anyway. I loved her more than anyone and anything, but then she was gone and I became myself again; a self I never cared for.” He didn’t continue like he was waiting for her to tell him that she cared. She wanted to so much to tell him so. The fur moved again as he grabbed at it. “Until you.” He said in such a voice she would have strained to hear him if she could.

“You remind me of her;” he choked out, ripping out her still heart. “her heart, her spirit. But now you’re gone too. You both deserved better, and I am so sorry. I failed you.” He stopped and pressure was put on the pedestal. She felt him lean across her.  She could feel the sudden presence of heat and it was new. The whole day, people had come in and out; cried and begged, but no one came so close to her that she could feel the heat off of their body or the breath from their mouth. She could definitely tell now, how his breath was ragged and smelled of alcohol. It had been days on their journey after he had run out of alcohol and declined what he found. Now he drank over her dead body and she was so sorry to him. He spoke again, close to her ear. “I’m so sorry, but you’ll be a queen in Heaven now, and sit among the angels.” Then something happened that she didn’t expect. She expected him to be strong, not to fall back on drinking. She expected him to say a word to her and leave, not to give her the farewell she wanted of just someone. She expected him to be strong, not for her to feel something like this.

She felt it hit her cheek and then slide down like it was her own. This time she was sure it was not just the melted snow from above. It was the Huntsman’s tear that fell on her and dripped down her chin and then her neck. Soft and sweet, he pressed his alcohol tipped mouth to hers and she felt it again, like a cup of hot tea. The warmth from his kiss filled her face and traveled down to her heart. It was slow, creaky, and oh God, did it hurt, but it was real. Her heart beat once, and then again and slowly picked up pace.

“Goodbye my princess.” The huntsman pulled away and another tear hit Snow’s face.

She felt her fingers regaining movement and felt the blood rushing to her feet. She wasn’t wrong before, about the antidote to her sleep. True love’s kiss did melt the frost on her heart, but her true love was not the man she thought it was. For love to be true it had to be mutual and for what she could see only her heart seemed to melt in his presence, not the other way around. Could future love be powerful enough to break the curse on her heart now? She could feel all of the muscles moving that she had tried to move before. She had to get up. She had to catch him. She had to tell him. Her eyes snapped open and she saw. After so long she breathed a sigh of relief, scared of losing the breath she had just took in. She looked around the room but it was empty. Had he moved so fast that he would be leaving now? He had nothing else to do here and his promise of gold was with a dead woman. He had no reason to stay.

She reached up and touched the line of tears that started at her cheek and fell down her chest. His tears, his feelings had been what had awoken her. She had to find him. No part of her body save her heart felt stiff as if she had been dead for days. It was only as if they had fallen asleep with her as she spun around and dropped them down the side of the table. She ran her hand through the fur under her and let out a laugh. The first words she would let out of her mouth would be to her savior, but the first sound would be hers. She let the laughter take her in small burst and she leaned back, almost falling off the table as she did. _Composure._ She reminded herself before looking to the floor. She slowly touched a toe to the ground and it tingled with surprise at the fact that it was at last colder than her. She smiled and stood on her own two feet. Ah, the feeling of competence. She knew that soon she would need that feeling, when she would greet her company. What would they think of her? She wondered as she walked a ways away from the table and stared into a room height mirror. Her skin had yet to regain what little color it had before. Her lips still purple and her hair dark as ever, combed to her side. She was dressed in a beautiful white gown and her feet bare on the marble floor. _A ghost._ She decided. That is what she was. Soon she would be the phantom leader of the rebellion. Soon but not yet. Voices trailed into the room from the entrance. _Is it?_ She asked herself before quickly tip-toeing her way toward the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what I did wrong! :F


	4. Understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fourth part: Understood (I'm splitting the Understanding part into a few parts to hash out the drama (i also want to keep every chapter around 1000 words each that way it's easy to keep track of))

She pushed open the door only to be greeted with the twilight hours of the day. Heads turned toward her with looks of fear and astonishment. Her mouth tugged upward into an awkward smile as she stepped down into the dirt, it’s cold different than that of the marble floor. She looked down at her feet and then up again. The people clumped together; those that had noticed her so far. Straightening her shoulders, she pushed herself into the crowd and upon passing the dwarves she hesitated. A warmth filled her and she smiled down to them before continuing on. 

“The curse has lifted.” Said the wiser voice of the chattering dwarves; Muir smiled with pride at his princess. Only he knew of her potential and never once doubted her goodness. He was the one who knew who she would become. She turned and smiled back at him with a nod before continuing on. Ahead she spotted William first, his height taller than most, and his father. They chatted somberly to each other but when the hem of her white dress came into William’s vision he stopped completely and followed it up to his love. Duke Hammond followed his son’s gaze and with a small gasp, took two steps behind where he stood. Snow looked William in the eye, happy to see that it was indeed him and not the Queen, come to kill her again, She gave him her most confident smile, but it came out as hesitant and she cursed herself for it. For her little confidence reflected its self onto his face and she knew. It was then that no one but her knew her consequences; how it could be that she was alive. William looked from Snow to his father and that was her excuse to continue. The Huntsman had to be around somewhere. He had to be. She continued on and started to come to Duke Hammond when he stopped her. 

“Death has favored you.” He said with some astonishment still in his voice—but what hadn’t he seen in his time of war? He gave her a heart warming smile and brought a hand to her arm. She shook her head and placed a hand over his. 

“Death favors no man.” She said thinking back to her sleep. The queen had thought that she was defenseless. Maybe she knew that Love’s true kiss did not exist within William. Then again, she probably didn’t know it existed within the Huntsman. She realized that she was being swayed and maybe it was just a simple sleep potion, but then why had she been pronounced dead? Why would the queen go to such lengths? Anger boiled up in Snow that she didn’t know that she had. Anger over her people, her death, and her father. 

“As soon as spring rises, we ride to battle.” She said without hesitation. This is what death does to someone. This is why no one is supposed to return from it. She set her jaw and the Duke opened his. He questioned her with concern. Was she even well enough? “We must ride like thundering waves, under the battle flag of my father!” she yelled, turning toward the people around her. Everyone looked her way now. Still there was no site of him. Still she boiled with seething anger as she heard the crowd whisper amongst them.

"For all these years, I have known nothing but darkness.” She offered slowly. “But I have never seen a brighter light than when my eyes just opened. And I know that light burns in all of you! And those embers must turn to flame! Iron into sword!” She let her word dig under the peoples skin before making eye contact with those willing. “I have seen what Ravenna sees.” She continued, “I know what she knows." She swallowed the fear that welled up in her throat like putrid acid eating away at her insides. "I can kill her.” She said turning toward Hammond who in return set his eye brows. 

"Can you?" He asked with all the same warmth in his voice. "If you go, it may be to your doom." His eyes wavered and she saw the concern he had for her. She also saw the fear that he had for the kingdom. 

"I'd rather die today than live another day of this death." She turned back to the crowd with a shake of her head. Her hair fell to her side again. "Who will ride with me, come spring? Who will be my brother?" She yelled to the crowd who reciprocated her words with “Aye!”’s and cheers. That was when he saw it. The look of disbelief on her Huntsman’s face as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked up to her with wonder in his eyes, all drunkenness seemingly gone from the moment before. He stood tall and stared into her eyes. She wanted her first words to be for him but now what could she give him, for staying with her for so long? She gave him a smile, for that was all that she had. It was if the sun opened up and a great miracle was done to him. His face shifted slowly from fear and confusion to that of pure joy. He smiled up at her as if she had just indeed given him her first words after death; as if she had indeed given him everything she had. Their eyes set on each other as the crowd bent down on their knees. The Huntsman shook his head, his smile the biggest that she had ever seen. She wanted to run to him then and there, but there was a time and a place and that was not it. She looked up to the sky to keep herself at bay wondering if her father and mother could see her now as she stood before their people and promised all she could. She wondered if she had made them proud.


	5. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the third part of Understanding! Thank you so much for your continued support of this fic. It really makes me happy that I could write something that so many people like! Please enjoy this next part~

Winter had already seemed so long and it had just begun. The sky was darkening and she knew that what she had offered was precious. Her own life was something that she was willing to give but she didn’t realize until Duke Hammond had asked her, how her life meant something to so many people. It was too late to take away her words now and she knew what she was doing now was the right thing. She had people to protect her, as long as she could get to Ravenna, she could kill her. _Only by fairest blood shall you be undone._ The queen had spoken this to her and she knew it to be true. If nothing else, she would believe in this. Snow looked down to the crowd as they cheered. William had taken it upon himself to continue her speech and she was now simply standing next to him; a figure head for the rebellion. She looked back to where the Huntsman was but found him gone. She hadn’t misplaced him, he was gone. It felt as if her heart was stopping all over again. After the smile she had just received from him, how could he just leave? Did he not know what she needed? She snuck around William and fell into the crowd. No one seemed to notice as she weaved her way through with her head down. They were too engrossed in William’s speech. The temple that she had emerged from spread light from it’s inside; the candles that burnt around her then, still lit. A single shadow fled from the light, cutting straight through it like an axe splitting wood. She slid behind the crowd and against the wall towards the open door. It was large and wooden—an old dark tree had been used in its making.

Hesitation hit her then. She had felt the rush of being alive as soon as she had awaken and it had taken her to where she was now. But the now that she stood in was murky. If the shadow was who she believed it to be, then that was one thing off her list of things to do, but it wasn’t that easy. What was the goal of talking to him? She wanted to talk to him about her personal journey and what she had learned but what could she do past that. To tell a man that she knew that he loved her would be ridiculous. Just as she had thought earlier, what if their love was in the future and she was going to scare him away? Her hand slid down the old wooden door and to her side, it’s counterpart resting across her chest, She was reassured by the soft beating she felt, but that was all she knew. She was alive and it was thanks to him. She knew it to be true. It was not just her imagination playing tricks on her. _It wasn’t… a dream_. She reassured herself before gripping the door again and sliding through the entrance without letting any more light out. Her hand felt the rise of her pulse as she entered. She couldn’t see anything through a pillar but she saw the shadow move as well at the sound of her entrance as if the person was used to listening for small sounds. She slid up to the pillar and put her back to it—her hands braced across the cold marble. The shadow didn’t move again and she heard nothing; only the slight flicker of the candle changed the room’s feeling. Wrapping her hands into fists, she pushed herself from the pillar and turned so that her forehead rested on it. She took in a deep breath through her nose and let it drift out again. Breathing seemed so simple when she was outside.

The candles flickered with the movement of air in the room and she released her fists. Fingers trailed the pillar as she rounded it slowly. It was him standing there; his back to her his hand gripping the fur of her death bed. He didn’t turn to face her but as she slowly made her way over the marble floor, he began to address her.

“You were dead.” Came his voice. She couldn’t see his mouth move, but she recognized the accent, however quiet, to be simply his. She stopped in her tacks and returned her hand to her chest. Her mind shot like an arrow back to her sleep and his words. _Until you_. He had said over her cold body. She had heard his emotions through his words as she was doing now. Maybe it wasn’t confusion or astonishment anymore. Instead it sounded like she was the one gripping his heart, as if she had betrayed him. The weight of feelings she only felt through him weighed down on her and she felt her self choke. She thought back to her death—her sleep.

“Maybe,” she said simply and quietly. Would her own confusion reach him? She wondered as he trailed his hand down the fur to where her head had laid. He picked up his hand and looked down at it. She saw his profile now; the strong jaw, the still unshaven from their journey. “I see you’re still not cleaned up from the journey.” She let her mouth wander and instantly jammed it shut. He turned toward her and her suspicion was confirmed. His face was edged with hurt but it wasn’t as deep as her imagination had led her to believe. He gave her a smile that showed absolutely no amusement at all.

“I was a little busy, Princess.” He said before he seemed to notice his own words. His gaze fell to the floor and his jaw set hard together. She had felt his poignant words over her before when her heart began to beat. Now he said them as if they were supposed to be a jest. The room was stale and quiet. She didn’t know how to speak her mind even though she had no problem with it before. What could she do to break the silence-- to break the barrier between them?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, and please tell me where I messed up :)


	6. Understanding Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part of Understanding.

“I’m sorry.” She said, not moving her gaze from his eyes. He opened them just slightly wider and turned to her; eyebrows furrowed. His eyes burned into hers. His expression was different now, indiscernible in Snow’s eyes. He shook his head and retracted his hand from the table, running it through his light straw colored hair that was now powdered with road dirt and oils. He looked no different from when she had first met him in the dark woods. At that time he was lowly and would do anything for a drink, or for something to buy a drink with. When it happened, she was so scared of the man who had nothing to lose. She offered everything she didn’t have and yet it didn’t seem to faze him. Something else was driving him to turn her in. That something else was his wife.

“Sorry for what?” he questioned, letting his fingers trail down his face and rub at the bridge of his nose. Under each eye was a dark circle. He hadn’t been sleeping. “Dying? Or I guess not actually being dead?” He met her eyes again and continued. “That’s nothing you could have changed.” She let her feet take her to the marble table and let her hand run through the soft fur pelt that covered it, before looking up to him. His eyes had something in them. What did he expect of her? It was impossible for him to know anything about what she was thinking, or at least she thought that.

“No,” she let out a sigh before raising a hand into the air. She reached for his arm, but stopped herself. _Now was not the time or the way._ She let her hand hang in the air, hesitation was so common in her thoughts recently, what if she just-.    She let her hand continue and find contact with him. This was what she could do for him now. She slowly rested her palm on his forearm, expecting him to pull it back. It did give out a shake but to her surprise, he let her continue. She looked down to her small fingers barely covering any of the surface that was his arm. She waited for him to meet her eyes again before letting herself go on.

“I’m sorry…” she said quietly, “I’m sorry for leaving you.” Her mind rushed with thoughts of the past few days. _I am so sorry. I failed you_. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear what she did, but there was nothing anyone could do to erase that from her mind. It was stupid for her to even think about forgetting about it.  She felt his muscle tense under her skin. The look in his eyes was again indiscernible. At first she took it as anger again, and she almost pulled back but then she saw it. It wasn’t anger. It had to have been fear, but how had it come to that?  

“What are you talking about?” he said quickly looking back to the death bed that stood for everything he had told her while inebriated; while she was dead. Snow watched him. She watched his eyes flicker from the head and to the foot of the table. The fur moved slightly through a slight breeze that entered from the still open door. She pressed her thumb into his arm and he turned his head sharply in her direction. Maybe the alcohol hadn’t worn off like she had thought it had. What did she know? She had spent her life in a prison cell, away from the world of drunkards. So what was he thinking? Would he remember anything she might say? She let out a sigh and dropped her hand. The wind picked up again and she looked toward the door. A few of the thousands of candles that were nearest to the door went out with a flicker. When she looked back to the mirror from before, she could no longer see herself—the light from the room had diminished greatly.  Chill had also crept up on her and, remembering how cold she had been by herself in death, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked down to the floor. Winter was going to be a long season. She could tell. Hopefully the spring would at least be a smaller amount of time.

“What are you talking about?” he asked again and reached over to her. He lifted her chin up in his thumb and forefinger. She stared up at him with green eyes wondering what he would show her next. When he had asked the first time she knew that he was simply tying to ignore her. Now when he asked, she could see that his eyes were filled with not only confusion but concern. If it was anything else, she would just tell him, but once again she was left with nothing on her tongue. A man, as a final goodbye, gives you a kiss, only with the thought that you will never know. How could you tell him that you knew? How could you be so certain that you did want to tell him? Did she? She felt the rough calloused fingers on her chin and wondered what was actually going to happen when she told him—if she told him. The feeling of his hands holding her after her death was strong in her mind still. She felt his hands from that time and closed her eyes. She had missed that warmth—that rough yet gentle touch. She shook her head gently, not wanting to sever the contact between them. After so many hours of death and cold, all she wanted was this warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me how I'm doing. :D


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally we find love?

“Fine if that’s what you want.” He said leaning back against the pillar. “I apologise greatly for my behavior just now.” He said quickly and irritably. “Now can I go?” he asked as if he had hashed out all of the problems she had with him. Since when did these topics become problems? She didn’t know, but if he didn’t play nice, they weren’t exactly blessings. This time it was her turn to drop her jaw even farther than she naturally did.

“You think I want you to apologize? For that?” she asked above the quiet of before. He threw his hands into the air as if to say he gave up. It was getting easier and easier to ignore her desire to touch him. “I want you to tell me why and how it could have even happened!” she practically yelled. His face showed offence at her comment.

“How?” he asked belligerently, “You come in here after me, after putting me through hell because you DIED, and you want to know how this happened?” he let out the rest of his air supply before spinning around and walking around her. She almost grabbed him again, but he wasn’t finished. He turned to the corner and ran his hand down his face. She watched him slowly let his anger out in small ways. His face was red from being rubbed and his hair a mess from being pulled at. She didn’t realize what all of this had meant to him. She thought that she knew what he was going through because she had heard his secret proclamation. She was so wrong.

“No…” she said quietly again. He turned around because of the change in attitude. “I want to know about the first time. When I was dead and you spoke over my body.” She began, finally getting to what she had been trying to say. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t move or make a sound. He just froze. _Was this one sentence too much for him?_ She wondered. After seeing him in so many dangerous situations, she had never seen him freeze completely before.

“Do you understand now?” she asked trying to use her kindest voice. It was not hard to break a mind in his state.

“But you-“ he tried to say but couldn’t finished. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak again. “But you were DEAD.” He said as if she had forgotten. She smiled up at him.

“Maybe.” She mused. “If death is being able to hear and feel everything around you, but not being able to do anything else,” she paused and looked up, thinking. “Then yes. I supposed you could say I was dead.”

“But your heart had stopped and you weren’t breathing. There was no pulse,” he continued, going over the details. She nodded along and waited for him to catch up.

“Yes, I felt it; my heart stopping that is.” His face went from confusion to concern.”And yes, it was very painful.” She closed the space between the two of them. “But what was more painful was hearing people speak over me as if I was already buried. They cried and how I wished I could join them.” She raised her hand to him and he didn’t shy away. “But with you, Huntsman, I felt so much pain.” Now he seemed as if he was the one in pain. She ran her pointer finger down across his cheek one and down his jaw line. “The words you spoke were to me, not about me.” She continued, “You didn’t hesitate and even if it was the product of drowning your sorrows with mead, you spoke to me. Ever since the village town, I knew that I trusted you, and more. I never felt anything but that though, from you and so that is why I am asking you now. Why would you say such things to me when your heart is occupied with so much more than me?” Her finger stopped in its track as she looked up at him and realized. Tears were coming down her cheeks. Smooth and clear like rain and she knew why. Every sad word, horrible thing, and tear that she had thought while dead was coming to her now. Every tear that she cried because of the people who spoke over her escaped her eyes at once. At long last she was able to look at her Huntsman and give him what he deserved; her raw, unchanged emotions. It was so beautiful she smiled. Maybe she wanted to know how he could say so much for her, but she also knew when to be quiet.

The Huntsman reached up and wrapped his hand around hers and then with his other hand he wiped away the tears from her eyes. He smiled as well as he looked down to her. She hoped that he didn’t feel overwhelmed, but with this gesture of kindness, she knew that he would be fine. There was no doubt in her mind that once again they would have to talk about her death, but that time was not now. That time was sometime both very near and far. Before Spring but after Winter. Somewhere in the in between would they be able to be just as forthcoming as is needed.

“Don’t you already know the answer?” He asked, quietly again. He took her hand and pulled her to him. He wrapped her in a tight embrace and she was filled with a different kind of warmth. Different than the heat of earlier, and much different from the cold she would never forget. She was filled with the love that she knew was meant for two people, but only had one place to go. That was the Huntsman’s secret. The him that he never cared for wasn’t him. It was what the war had made him into. The Huntsman that he was when he spoke of his wife’s love for him, when he spoke over Snow’s cold dead body, when he held her now—that was the real Huntsman.

**Author's Note:**

> So tell me what you thought, please! Also I'd like to know if I messed up details too much or if I made any huge clerical errors.


End file.
